Illusions
by Schemergirl
Summary: Oneshot. A blonde, staying late at work to finish paperwork, happens to bump into the young president, and some illusions are finally shattered.


Disclaimer: Don't own.

A/N: This is for SapphireXSerpent's challenge.

**Illusions**

Elena yawned as she turned the page to find that, no matter how much she wished otherwise, the paperwork will still keep on coming. She tapped her fingers idly on the orderly desk as she tiredly scanned the page, signing it at the bottom. It was really late, but she didn't care. Experience taught her that whatever she did today would mean less time wasted on paperwork tomorrow. She found herself staring at the light switch in boredom, and got back to work.

Her mind wasn't in it lately- in anything. She was worried about the President. With all the jeopardy brought by the Geostigma and the silver haired trio gone, Edge was normal once more, and while the Elena of old would enjoy the security in sitting behind a desk all day signing paperwork, she found that she rather missed all the running around with Tseng to retrieve Jenova's head. Alright, so the torture she was put through was not worth being missed, that, and the fact that she had to put up with Tseng's mild case of OCD when traveling with him. But she waved all that aside. Elena was an optimist- until now. She turned another page.

She noticed lately that the President was being rather secretive. He had taken to wearing that sheet again, and Elena feared the worst: that he still had traces of Geostigma. _Why _he didn't get it healed was beyond her, and work ethic told her that it was none of her business to pry in her superior's affairs, but she couldn't help it. If he died, she was out of a job.

Ignoring the inner voices that told her Rufus's death meant more to her than just a job, Elena realized that she was absently staring out of the window, paperwork forgotten. She sighed and decided on taking a break. No sense on working if every two minutes she would be distracted, was there?

Walking out of her cubicle and over to the staff kitchen, she switched on the light and turned on the kettle. Some coffee would do wonders- it always worked, for her. As she waited, she looked at a strand of her blonde hair, counting how many split ends there were. Six. Frankly, she could care less, but split ends were a reminder of how hard she'd been working lately and how she didn't have time to care for such things.

Suddenly, she heard footsteps. She wondered who would be there at such an hour, and decided that it was probably Reno, drunk and thinking that it was daytime.

Hey, it had happened before.

To her surprise, it was not Reno who stepped into the room, but the President. And, further surprising her was the fact that he wasn't on his wheelchair, and that he wasn't wearing that sheet. Actually, he appeared perfectly healthy, judging by his posture. He didn't even seem tired.

"Are you done staring, Elena?"

"Oh- um, yes President," she stuttered, "I mean, I wasn't staring, I was thinking-"

"You were wondering why I'm not in my usual ensemble, so to speak."

"Yes, sir. That."

After a pause, the kettle went off. Hoping that making the coffee would give her time to cool off from her embarrassment, she turned to make some of the addictive drink for her and for her superior.

"How do you take it?" she asked in a tone that she was proud of. No stuttering.

"Some milk, no sugar."

_How fitting, _she thought.

Task done, she carried the mugs to the table, and sat down. Rufus glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

"We need to talk," Elena dared. The President was occupying more time on her mind lately than was reasonable, and to find out now that he was perfectly fine after all the worrying she'd done was frustrating, to say the least.

To her relief, he nodded and took a seat. "Yes, we do."

After another pause in which he took a sip of his drink, he spoke.

"You want me to explain why I've been going around on a wheelchair. And that sheet."

"Not that it's any of my business, but-"

"Save it. I've seen you worrying lately, Elena, and I hope it's not just my hubris that tells me that you're worrying over me."

"Um, it's true," she admitted, and cursed her nervousness around the man. _Um, Elena? Um? Way to leave an impression of an extensive vocabulary on your employer…_

"Then, in that case, you have a right to know."

_Why is he being so… considerate of my feelings? The only thing he ever showed compassion to was Dark Nation, and she died in the explosion… This had better be good._

To him, she just nodded. "Alright."

"As you know, the Shinra name is not the most popular at present- it never really was. The only way I was keeping the people in check was through fear. But now, we are at our lowest regarding image and funds, and until we build them back up again, I think it is safer to pose as a handicap."

Elena blinked. "Why?"

The President sighed. "Think, Elena. At present, we are weak. We don't have the resources to put up with any protests or what-have-you that comes up. Remember AVALANCHE in its early stages, blowing up reactors? We are practically defenseless to threats like that now, and as much as I hate to admit it…"

Realization dawned on Elena. "You are appearing in public the way you are in order to invoke pity?"

"Who would harm a helpless man?"

She didn't know what to think. On one hand, she was shocked that Rufus would lower himself to this, and on the other hand, she respected him for sacrificing his dignity for the safety of the company. Because really, who would harm a man in a wheelchair? No normal, sane person would.

_At least he doesn't have Geostigma. Who am I kidding? What gives him the right to leave me—us, worrying so much?_

"Sir, I can't believe-" Suddenly, her initial disbelief turned to anger. "You could at least tell _us!_" she almost shouted, the respect that she'd felt for him a second ago gone. Silence followed, and Elena felt herself getting increasingly uncomfortable. The President, or Rufus, as she suddenly found herself calling him inside her head, was just as calm as ever, drinking his coffee.

Just when Elena could officially classify the silence as unbearable, Rufus finally spoke up.

"I could, but then you would have more information to keep safe- my plan to return Shinra to power, my faking an illness- don't you see? You and Tseng were captured and tortured for information like that once! And besides," he smirked, "What did you think happened when you caught me falling off that building? That that teenager lifted me from my wheelchair and threw me over the side?"

Trying not to kick herself for being so silly because that was what she had thought, Elena saw Rufus in a new light. So he did care for the Turks, even just a little bit. She stil felt some anger towards him too, for being so- so-- She didn't even know which word to use.

She stood up, carrying her mug to the sink.

"I really have to go, sir," she announced, her tone somewhat terse. Screw the paperwork. She needed sleep. Signing papers regarding diplomacy didn't suit her now, anyway. Diplomatic was the opposite of what she was feeling.

She turned around from the sink to find Rufus in front of her.

"Elena. I'm only human."

She stared at her feet, wanting to look anywhere but those blue eyes of his. So that was the word she was looking for. Human. She could almost laugh at the absurdity of it. Of course Rufus was human. She didn't know what it was: his former glory, his arrogance, his pure white suits that never got dirty, or-she admitted to herself- his perfect looks, but Rufus Shinra had somehow managed to fool them all. And now that he was a degenerate, just like her, the illusion had faded, for her at least.

"Won't you at least look at me, Elena?"

Elena looked up. He was standing so close to her… she only realized now how tall he was. His expression was the usual: completely unemotional. The only things about his face that were different tonight were the words leaving his mouth.

"Goodnight, sir."

On her tip-toes, she gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then walked past him.

"Goodnight, Elena," she heard as she walked out. No doubt she had left a trace of shock on that perfect, unemotional, face of his, and she smirked in satisfaction at being able to envision him like that now.

Tonight, she had accomplished much more than some paperwork. She had discovered that Rufus Shinra, contrary to popular belief, was not a President, or a King, and certainly not perfect- he was just a man, and all that _being_ a man implied: he was only human.


End file.
